


World Diversity

by DarkHybridChild



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Every chapter is marked with what's in it, Gen, Just a bunch of drabbles and crap, Just a hodgepodge, M/M, Multi, Other, Some angst and seriousness, Utter shenanigans for most of them, more to come probably - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-06-10 00:36:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6930820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkHybridChild/pseuds/DarkHybridChild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of all my drabbles and ficlets and oneshots that I have written that don't deserve their own standalone. All sorts of ships and genres within.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. RusAme - Daring.

**Author's Note:**

> Pairings: Will be listed by chapter. For this one, RusAme.
> 
> Warnings: Again, will be listed by chapter. For this, actually nothing. Just an overabundance of fluff.
> 
> Don't worry to any of you people who are waiting for the next chapter to Turn of the Cards, it's in the works. I just felt the need to share all the drabbles and ficlets that don't exactly merit its own standalone fic for so here is the place it's all gonna go. It's gonna have all sorts of shiz. Crack, angst, fluff, you name it. And pairs are all my ships or requests from friends. Don't like a pairing? I'm sorry, please feel free to skip over it. Love my stuff? Thank you! I would appreciate it even more if you'd leave feedback. As a writer, there's nothing more I love than getting response. (Which has also been somewhat of a thing for Turn of the Cards... I've hit a depression funk and the fact there's a lot of kudos/favorites/watches, but hardly any comments has bothered me.) But enough ranting, I'll let you read on! -hearts-

Daring - RusAme  
Prompt from: Torayashachan  
—-

Most of the Nations never dared to actively poke at or test Russia's patience.

None of them ever tried to pry beneath his walls and see what made him tick.

None ever attempted to get to know him beyond more than a working relationship. (And even then, that term was used loosely.)

None bothered him.

Except America.

Only that Nation dared to poke at his defenses, dared to try and figure him out.

Only Alfred had ever attempted to get to know him beyond just a working business relationship.

And Ivan decided, as he watched how the American fearlessly pressed close to him, nimble and deft fingers pulling at his scarf in order to wind it around his own shoulders with that childishly broad grin, that he would be the only one allowed to.


	2. Ameripan - Synchronize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: humor, fluff.
> 
> I love these two so much... Hnng. Like I can't even begin to say how much without practically imploding.

Synchronize - Ameripan  
Prompt from: Torayashachan  
-

Alfred glared at his laptop screen and the infernal circular object that was spinning along with the words 'connecting…' it needed to hurry up!

Wasn't wireless communication supposed to be amazing and awesome by now?

It shouldn't take a hundred years to synchronize a computer to another to initiate a video conference!

He didn't have all day–night–whatever time it was, Alfred didn't care what time it was, it was _his time_ to talk to his boyfriend, dammit!

_Note to self: Bring up discussion of improving cable and satellite internet for faster connection, this is ridiculous!_

Glaring harder at the damned symbol, Alfred was barely holding back the urge to start spewing a fountain of profanity. Why was it going so horrendously _slow_ –

"Hello, America-kun."

–What was he saying? Nevermind, everything was completely _awesome now_!

"Hey, Kiku!"

Seeing Japan's face on his screen that slowly lit up in a smile was worth all the lag time in the world.

Alfred forgot the whole reason he'd wanted to complain.


	3. CanAme: The Porch Swing At Dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: angst-ish, mentions of things (alcohol, sex, ect), Alfred having abandonment issues and a bad-luck complex.
> 
> Long story short: America's practically lived on one-night stands and broken relationships to get by and Canada's always been the one to glue him back together. CanAme, in a slightly more-than-platonic, but less-than-romantic way.

The porch swing at dawn  
Prompt from: - (One of the few prompts not actively given by one of my derps, but rather found on a prompt site that I saved in a list.)  
—

The skyline was barely getting lighter when Matthew watched Alfred climb the stairs up onto the porch, facing him with heavily sagged shoulders and shaking hands.

He wouldn't say he'd been waiting there all night for him out of worry.

He didn't have do ask, but he did, out of routine. "Another fight…?"

A silent nod was his reply.

Eyes softening, Canada stood up from the porch chair and let his hand rest on his brother's shoulder for a moment. "Sit down, I'll bring you something." He murmured before slipping past to go into the house, already knowing his brother would comply.

He fussed about the kitchen as quick and precise as anything, placing steaming hot liquid into two thermos, grabbing up a box of thin mints, and making his way back outside, only stopping to grab the fleece throw from the back of a chair before stepping back outside into the cool of the air.

America was sitting near lifelessly in the porch swing, idly rocking on the chains to and fro as he stared with large, glossy eyes out into the town. The dim shadows of the coming dawn only made his brother's pale features that much more pronounced.

Matthew sighed quietly before he made his way over, nudging his brother with his hip. "Stand up for a sec, here," He pushed one of the thermos into Alfred's hand before sitting in the spot his brother once occupied when he stood before pulling him back down into his lap, wrapping the fleece around them both.

He heard the thermos being twisted open, followed by his brother taking a slow sip of the hot drink before he offered the box of thin mints to him.

There was a quiet, almost hollow laugh. "You should stop spoiling me," His brother whispered.

"Never," He replied, wrapping one arm further around his brother and letting his forehead rest against his shoulder. "I won't let you believe I'm going to throw you away." _Like everyone else you've ever loved_ went unspoken.

Alfred's shoulders were shaking again, but the blond remained silent as he opened the box and took out one of the thin chocolate covered cookie and began to nibble on it.

The skyline was even lighter now, the night finally giving way to the dawn. Lazily the silent area of the town was beginning to show life.

Matthew opened his own thermos and took a drink of the hot chocolate in it before stealing a cookie for himself.

They didn't speak for quite a time, not until the sky was a brilliant hue of oranges, reds, and pinks.

Alfred's eyes were lidded as he squinted against the light before he finally let his body relax back into his brother, letting out a sigh.

He was tired. So tired… Of this same old song and dance, of the hurt.

But if there was anything it always proved…

A thin, faint smile rose to his face. "Thanks, Mattie…" He whispered out.

The Canadian's arm tightened fractionally around him. "I've always got you, Al."

He should have realized it much sooner, but that's what pain does to you. Like love, it blinds you from the important things.

Matthew was really the only thing he needed to be happy, with how much care he always showed him. He didn't need to throw himself out there for attention and one-night-stands and what have you.

He didn't need romance, or a quick fuck, or any of the crap that came with relationships.

He just needed love.

And he had that. All of it that he could ever want, right here.

"Matt?" He asked quietly, afraid to break the peacefulness that was settling as the dawn was beginning to break, the sun mere moments from rising above the horizon.

"Mm?"

"…I love you more than any of the others that come and go in my life, you know that, right?"

There was quiet for a moment, before Matthew began to laugh, it was just as soft as his words had been.

"Of course I do, Al. Now, come on. Let's go in."

Alfred stubbornly shook his head and refused to move when his brother pushed at him.

"No, let's…stay here. Stay right here. The sunrise is coming."

A smile rose to Matthew's face before he settled into the swing once more. "Alright."

Nothing else was said as the two gently swung on the porch swing as the sun finally ascended above the horizon.


	4. Bulgaria & Romania - Shenanigans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Pure and total crack.
> 
> I am not sorry for this one at all. It had to be done.

Bulgaria and Romania

Prompt: Shenanigans, from ALynnL.

* * *

"Are you seriously shitting me right now?" Bulgaria asked, his voice a mixture of sheer incredulousness and utter fascination.

Before him, his brother Romania was standing with the biggest shit-eating grin he had ever seen and there were literally fucking _pink elephants_ dancing behind him like they came straight outta Dumbo or something.

"I apparently read the incantation wrong with my spell," Romania replied, shrugging, as if suddenly summoning pink dancing elephants was nothing out of the normal, just a slight mishap. "Nothing too serious."

"Nothing... Serious..." Bulgaria repeated, brows arching and staring past his brother at the scene that could have come from Barnum and Bailey's or Ringling Brother's circus troupe acts and wondered, not for the first time, just _how_ he managed to stay any sort of amount of sane when his brother decided he was going on a magical stint.

Mind shutting down into a sort of primal safe-mode, he turned off his sense-mechanics and decided to just take it as it was.

A moment later, a grin of his own rose up. "Think you can summon up the rest of the act?" He inquired, sounding very much like a kid in a candy store being told they could have two extra treats.

Romania's toothy smirk was his response. "That, and more, dear brother. Just watch me."

Magic was never as entertaining to Bulgaria as it was now, with pink elephants, polka-dotted dodos, and purple chimpanzees dancing and flying about like it wasn't anything out of the ordinary at all.

_Especially_ the red-furred silver-back gorilla in a neon green glittery tutu and orange tiara.


	5. FrRus - Narrow Escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: More pure and total crack, implied things, and more or less humor in the form of these two dingbats.
> 
> There is a reason I probably should not be allowed to let my imagination run free. It comes up with crap like this. xD

Prompt: Narrow Escape. From ALynnL.

* * *

The only time most of the Nations had ever saw Russia book it like a bat out of hell was when Belarus had gone on one of her brother-stalking tangents and attempts to get him to marry her.

And even then, that hadn't ever been a display of his full speed.

Only America could honestly say he knew just how fast Russia could move when he was under pressure, or scared (however rare that truly was), or was under some sort of threat to his person in some form or another.

But today, the rest of the world found out just how fast the large Nation could actually move.

...And how stubborn and fast France was in said pursuit.

Although it was no secret at all that the man (and Nation) was relentless in his proverbial 'love quests', and several of the other Nations themselves could attest to it, but one would have thought he had enough sense to not pursue Russia in said quest.

Apparently he didn't get the memo.

So there went Russia, the moment the blond Frenchman had decided to drape himself over the taller Nation with a flutter of his lashes and a croon of endearment and suddenly the usually intimidating Nation was up, out of his seat, and out the door of the meeting room in mere seconds, leaving a startled France on the ground where he'd slid when the other stood up.

To that, the Nation laughed in his usual way, his eyes gleaming at the prospect of the chase and the subsequent victory he was sure to achieve before he was out the door before England could even open his big mouth to yell at him.

And the rest of the Nations could only stare, as moments later, Russia went zipping past the door in a near blur of speed, and barely a moment later, France dashing by as well with a loud call of some endearing term in his native language.

The others didn't know exactly what happened after that, and most of them didn't _want_ to know, but some time later that day the two of them had returned, Russia calmly, quietly, returning to his seat and looking none the worse for wear and France took his place beside England once again.

No one asked.

It wasn't until the next day, did things suddenly get the turn around.

France was the one running away at top speed, screaming a long, drawn out 'mon dieu!' as a nonchalant Russia trailed after him, not bothering to use his full speed, a childishly pleased smile on his face and his glowing purple aura surrounding him as he went.

Again, no one said anything.

And some time later, France ran back into the room and sat down in his seat and Russia came in mere moments later, still smiling like nothing was wrong.

France wasn't sure if he could consider this a narrow escape or not, by using the other Nations as an effective blockade, but he'd take his chances.

For now.

Russia was thinking something similar, but opposite in nature. A narrow escape? How foolish. If France was going to play these kinds of games, then he would let him.

The other Nations being around them were no determent to him. But he would be nice.

For now.

Because after all, if there was one thing France did teach him in all the years the other had mentored him, it was this:

You can't win, or escape a Love Game.

However, he could settle for a momentary draw.

His eyes gleamed. France's own sharpened.

_For now._


	6. FrRusAme - "How Are We Getting Out Of This One?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Absolute crack, implied sex and innuendo, failed sex games, and these three being absolute dorkwads.
> 
> I take absolutely no blame for any snorting, brains breaking, or any other amusing reaction to this. It was nearly two am when I wrote this and I have no filter.

Prompt: "How are we getting out of this one?" from Torayashachan.

* * *

"...Dude. _Really?_ " America questioned, the disbelief heavy in his voice.

"O-oui, I do believe I am quite...stuck." France answered, sounding vaguely embarrassed although there was also a great deal of amusement in it as well.

"Oh my God! I knew this was a bad idea. France why the hell did you even suggest we try this?" America complained.

"Because it sounded quite fun at the time, ohonhonhon~" France replied, giggling in his overly-fashioned way.

"Well it's not anymore! Oh my god, what are we going to DO?" America screeched.

And then suddenly another voice spoke up. "I'd very much appreciate it if you both stopped squirming so much, da? This is uncomfortable enough as it is."

"Désolé mon amour, but it is quite...how you say... _uncomfortable_ if I _stop_ moving." France replied, his voice a bit laboured.

"Russia you're in a much better position, can't you do something? My ass is killing me!" America shrieked.

"And such a lovely ass it is, huehuehue~!" France chimed in.

"I'm going to kick you in a minute, France!" America warned.

Russia hummed. "If I were capable of removing myself, I would have done so already, da? Being squeezed in this manner is very not fun."

"But I know what way of being squeezed is~" France once again chimed in.

There was a shift and the sound of leather smacking against cloth. Accompanied by a yelp.

"Not helping, France! What the hell are we gonna do?! How are we gonna get outta this one? I don't wanna be stuck like this forever!" America shouted.

"Calm down," Russia huffed. "Yelling and panicking is not going to help. Neither is your squirming, _stop that._ " He commanded.

America stilled, letting out a whine.

There was silence for a time.

Finally, with a loud sigh, Russia summoned the super strength in him and with a grunt of mild pain and annoyance, managed to dislodge France from his position on top of America, shift marginally enough to use his foot to give America a kick in warning and moments later, America scrambled out from beneath them.

The large nation practically tossed France next, receiving a loud yelp and a string of French curses as the Nation of Love stretched out his body and Russia himself flopped completely flat onto the ground and silently refused to move.

"Oh my god you did it, Russia! We're not going to be stuck!" America cried happily before sending a glare towards France.

"Dude, France, I love you and all, but we are _never_ going to play Sex Twister again if you're going to lock up like that."

France had the nerve to look only slightly embarrassed. "Momentary lapse, mon Ameriqué." He responded.

"You just don't want to admit you're an old geezer," America responded, rolling his eyes.

To that, the Nation huffed. "I am _not_ old! You are only as old as you feel, oui? I simply am not as _flexible_ as I once was because I have not _needed_ such...acrobatic-like mobility." He replied.

Russia mumbled something into the carpet that sounded suspiciously like a snort and a half assed attempt to say 'bullshit'.

"Point stands," America replied, ignoring France's response. "Never again."

"Seconded." Russia replied.

France heaved a sigh. "Oh, very well."

And then he was suddenly grabbed and hauled up over Russia's shoulder who seemed to have recovered and America was the next to be picked up by the tall Nation.

Dual choruses of 'what' and 'whoa' echoed.

"The hell, Russia?!" America gasped out.

"As unsatisfying _that_ particular game was, I am very much wanting to make up for it, da?" Russia replied, childish smile rising to his face and a gleam coming to his eyes.

That instantly sparked a reaction from the other two and he received quite the eager response of nods.

Without needing further incentive, he carried the two nations back to the bedroom and shut the door behind him.


	7. Germerica - "This was your idea"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Not crack, for once. Uh, Germany being the awkward derp he is, implied past-angst, America being insightful, and overall fluff. And humor, mainly due to Germany's awkward derp.
> 
> I really liked writing this one. Hnng. Mainly cuz it shows the other sides to both Germany and America. Mostly America, because I don't think he's as much of an idiot as he leads people to believe.

Prompt: "This was _your_ idea" from ALynnL.

* * *

This. Was. A. _Disaster._

Germany was staring in horror, mentally screaming at the chaotic mess before him.

How had something so simple, gone so horribly wrong?

How had his attempt to for once, take some initiative in his strange and unconventional relationship with America, go haywire?

It had started out simple enough, he made dinner.

Somewhere along the line, he was attempting to pick up the room, because while America wasn't a slob, his 'controlled chaos' that were the clusters of things in areas still bothered him.

And somewhere in the midst of that, the attempt of just trying to make things neat and pleasant, was when things began going to hell.

It started out as a bump to the coffee table and knocking over the mug of old coffee and spilling it on the nice, plush carpet.

Then there was the incident by the stairs with the potted plant...

When he was in the kitchen cooking, he made a mistake with the burner (He really wasn't used to electrical stoves, at all.) and the first attempt at the evening's dinner literally ended up flame broiled to a charcoaled crisp.

And then there was the blender breaking...

And it took him forever to simply fix _those_ particular issues.

The worst of it?

When America bounded into the house like usual, bellowing in his usual over-exuberant loud voice that he had returned, and of course, Germany had forgotten to move the furniture back into their rightful places and barely a moment later, went the resounding loud crash and bang and the sound of things crunching and breaking, and glass shattering.

So here he was, staring in horror and screaming mentally, completely shut down physically with America staring bewilderedly at the mess from where he sat in the midst of it.

"Oh, um... Oops. S-sorry... I didn't know you moved the furniture. Guess I should've looked beforehand." America said, his voice uncharacteristically small and quiet before he slowly pushed himself up and stood, brushing splinters and glass from his person and looking at what all he broke from his fall.

To be honest, this wasn't the worst disaster he'd had in terms of breaking his own furniture in the house. But America could understand how this would bother Germany.

Finally, the other managed to come to some sense of coherency. "...Are you alright?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine... It's sadly not the first time I've had a stupid moment and fallen over my own stuff and broken it." America replied, before he carefully stepped over the mess and stood beside the other.

"No harm done, furniture can be replaced, carpets can be cleaned and vacuumed and if all else fails, replaced as well. Please don't worry about it."

America turned and shuffled over to his broom closet to retrieve said vacuum, before going and collecting a trash can, and with an embarrassed look to himself, began silently picking up the mess.

Germany watched, suddenly feeling strange and out of place. Because for all the cleanliness he strove for, for some reason, the fact his own efforts had been undermined in the most spectacular way made him feel awkward. What's more, America was the one acting like he was the one completely at fault for it.

America had his moments, but if Germany hadn't gone on his own little personal cleaning tangent this wouldn't have happened.

Guiltily, he moved and began assisting the other nation in cleaning up.

Once everything was, for the most part, picked up, did Germany finally remember the entire reason why he was doing such a thing.

He went to the kitchen to check to see if dinner was still warm and hadn't burned, taking things off the stove, before going back out.

He noticed America was wincing a little as he scratched at a particular spot on his back. Frowning, he went over and inspected the other concernedly.

Upon the other lifting the back of his shirt, he saw the cause. Several small pieces of glass were embedded in the others skin and when he scratched, had cut the skin open.

He firmly dragged the other nation to the bathroom and immediately set about to removing said shards and cleaning the cuts before applying antibacterial cream over it and covering it with a soft gauze pad and taping it there.

"Thanks, but I would've healed just fine." America said with a small smile. His eyes reflected his gratefulness, but the words somewhat struck Germany.

"But it's better to assist your body's natural healing factor," He said quietly.

America's smile remained, but the corners seemed to quiver just a little. "Sometimes, the sting of it is a reminder that you're alive. That you make mistakes just like anyone else... I don't like to forget that my own stupidity is what causes my pain." He answered seriously.

Germany could only stare into America's eyes as he spoke those words, and he understood. He really understood. The words cut as deep into him as they seemed to cut into America.

They shared an equal pain in that regard, of the mistakes they made, and the pain they subsequently suffered.

"You should change into some comfortable clothes. A cotton shirt would work best so as not to disturb and move the gauze and tape..." Germany advised quietly before he took his leave to return to the kitchen.

He felt guilty still.

However, he didn't have much time to dwell and stew in said guilt as he fixed both plates with food before he set them on the table, snorting in a sort of ironically amused way as he got out a can of soda-America's favorite coca-cola-and set it beside one plate before retrieving a glass of water and setting it for the other. No matter the meal, fancy or otherwise, the other nation absolutely _demanded_ he had soda with it.

Then again, he wasn't in any position to complain at all or argue when he himself generally preferred to have his beloved beer with his meals.

They made quite the interesting pair, he supposed.

Because America was practically his opposite.

And yet...

America was also his parallel.

They went about things in a completely different manner and way of handling things, but at the end of the day, when you boiled it all down, they shared quite a bit of the same experiences.

He was interrupted from his thoughts when America walked into the kitchen.

"Whoa, what's all this?" He asked in curious fashion.

To that, Germany found himself flushed with shyness as he looked away. "...I made dinner. Which is also the reason why the furniture was out of place."

"Wait, how does dinner tie into the furniture being moved?" America asked curiously.

Flushing brighter, Germany explained the whole ordeal.

By the end of it, America's shoulders were shaking as he was fighting to contain his laughter. Germany didn't know why America wasn't outright howling by this point, and felt like he should be, because what he did was foolish to the ninth degree, and yet...

"So you're saying that this whole thing..." America started, gesturing towards the living room and then around the kitchen, "This was _your_ idea?"

Germany just nodded dumbly, still feeling as foolish as ever.

Before he could once again drown in his internal berating of himself, he was startled when he felt America's body slam quite strongly into his own, the other nation's arms winding around his middle tightly and suddenly the others face was right in front of his, a beaming smile on his face.

"Man, you did amazing. I love it." America said, his voice a stage whisper, filled with awe.

Germany could only blink in confusion and wonder, just _how_ the other thought what he did was amazing.

As if reading his thoughts, the other nation laughed. "Because, silly, you did it because you care. That's always gonna be the best thing ever." America answered.

The nation brought his hands up, gently framing Germany's face with them, thumbs stroking down across their cheeks.

America's expression had completely bloomed into an expression of pure affection, his blue eyes shining with the sheer depth of that happiness to the point it was hard for Germany to continue meeting the others gaze, feeling both unworthy, and humbled all at once.

"I'm...glad..." He managed to say.

"We all make mistakes, even with the best intentions. But I won't trade any of this for all the tea in China-believe me, he has _a lot_ -because for all the mishaps and all the misunderstandings we still have... It's perfect, in its imperfect way. We don't have to be anything more or less than ourselves." America assured softly, smile still in place before he slowly drew away from the other nation, before grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the table.

"Now come on, I want to enjoy this dinner you made before it goes cold and after that..." The nation paused, looking thoughtful, before shrugging and giving one of his carefree grins. "We'll just wing it. We have the rest of the day to ourselves."

Germany felt that he really didn't deserve any of this, as he sat and the two of them dug into the meal he made. But it was like America said.

He didn't have to act strong, didn't have to put on a front when they were together. He didn't have to _be_ what the rest of the world expected him to be. America had no expectations of him. And likewise, he held no expectation of America.

They could just _be_ , and the rest of the world that existed outside of this house were forgotten.

They still had their arguments and clashes of culture and opinion, but that didn't stop them from finding a way around it, because what they had here, in this sanctuary, was _theirs_ , something the rest of the world couldn't reach.

He wouldn't trade it for anything.

Imperfect as their lives and the world was...

The moments they shared together were the most perfect.

They were opposites, they were parallels.

They understood one another, and that was all that mattered.


	8. CanAmePan - "Are We There Yet?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Not crack, lots of fluff, some humor, a bit of srsness, and a bit of nerdy references.
> 
> Oh my goooood. This one. I have no words to express how much I loved writing this one. I finally got off my ass and finished it. It has been sitting half-written for like a month now. xD Anyway, hope you all enjoy it.

ALynnL: CanAmePan- "Are we there yet?"

Notes: Taking the context and adding a bit more to it. [In the sense of it not being just a typical 'are we there yet' roadtrip shenanigan.]

* * *

Canada had known that it would require a great deal of patience for what he was doing, and he also knew he was asking quite a bit of his brother, whose own attention span and patience was quite considerably less than his own. But he also knew, on the other hand, that it'd be worth it in the end.

So when he had appealed to his brother and asked him to trust him and let him take care of literally everything for the day and remain blindfolded? Well, that had been the easy part.

Of course America trusted him, why wouldn't he? He was Canada, he wasn't high-handed or used blackmail to get his way. He simply asked, very politely. And God knows, America could never say no to him. Because he wouldn't dare harm his brother. Sure, they got rough during sports and had physical harm from such things, but outside of that? Intentionally or otherwise, America did his hardest to never hurt Canada. So of course he said yes. He trusted his brother with his whole being. That wasn't something hardly any other Nation could claim in regards to America.

So with his usual, broad smile and charismatic voice, he agreed to let Canada do everything in regards to their get-together-outing they planned for whenever they could get the free time. He did well for the first two hours into the drive, once Canada had finished getting everything they needed into the SUV and got America into it as well. The American knew the SUV like the back of his hand as well as Canada did, so even with the blindfold over his eyes, he still managed to flick the Sirius XM satellite radio on and find a station they both enjoyed and settled back into the seat, opening the bottle of his coca-cola he had in the cup holder.

He was cheerful and not the least bit concerned as they drove, singing along to the music he knew, sometimes falling silent at a particular one as it pulled him into his thoughts and daydreams or he was simply trying to learn the words to the song and appreciate the melody. Canada had been most thankful for that.

It was only when they'd rounded out the fifth hour, did America finally break the repetitive monotony with his own curiosity. "Matt? Where are we going?" He finally asked.

Canada smiled, letting out a small sigh. It wasn't exasperated or annoyed, just a simple noise to alert his brother he heard and was thinking of a response.

"If I told you, Al, it'd ruin the surprise. Just trust me, eh? I promise it's something you'll love. In fact, everything I planned was done with you specifically in mind."

It wasn't well known to the other nations just how close Canada and America really were as brothers. Although in public they acted close and friendly, they didn't really know how often they saw one another or how close they truly were. If any Nation had ever bothered to asked, America would say honestly that if he were allowed to, he would rather spend every waking moment he could beside his brother, with them exploring their vast mountains and plains together, lost in the wilderness. If anyone bothered to remember and see Canada and ask, he'd answer something much similar.

Canada indulged his brother far more than he ever let on towards the others. Everything he planned for the two of them almost always geared towards the things he knew America loved best. If some knew, no doubt they'd say he was obsessed or at least enabling. And perhaps, he was. But when you only have a handful of people who see, let alone remember you, your world tends to revolve around those particular people.

And so Canada's world revolved mostly around America. And America, while his world tended to literally involve the rest of the world, had a special place in particular in said world reserved only for two people, and one of them was Canada.

America made a noise in his seat, taking a drink of his soda and feeling around blindly for his bag of trail-mix before grabbing a handful and popping it into his mouth. There was loud crunching echoing in the SUV before America swallowed and replied. "I love everything we ever do together, Matt. You know that. As long as you're with me. You don't have to spoil me."

Canada's smile shifted to a soft, overly fond one. "Of course I do, Al. Don't you see that? You're my brother, you're special to me, and..." He trailed off for a moment, a slight flush coming to his cheeks, before he finished his sentence, voice even softer than usual. "...I love you. I have to show you that, whenever I can. So you won't forget."

America's expression, though his eyes were hidden, softened, his usual smile turning less broad and, for lack of words, dorktastic, into something far more affectionate and gentle. "I understand more than you think I do, Matt. 'Cuz it's the same for me about you. And I couldn't forget that you love me, you goofball. ...I know I can get so busy and distracted that things...slip my mind, but I can't ever truly forget you. Besides, all I have to do is look down at my finger and I'll remember instantly." He replied, holding up his left hand and settled on his ring finger was a ring that was actually three small bands welded together and the stones set on said rings formed a beautiful triad of red, blue, and green. And for the nerds that he and his brother were, it was literally in the shape of the Triforce and the three stones symbolized the three stones from Zelda: Ocarina of Time.

"So don't worry, okay? I love you, too. I can't forget."

Canada's smile broadened and his eyes momentarily misted over from the emotion before he let out a quiet laugh. "Right, right. I know... But sometimes I still get scared."

"About being completely forgotten and disappearing?" America asked.

"Yeah..."

"Matt, I wouldn't let you disappear and there's no way I will forget you. We've discussed this, bro. Besides, it _has_ gotten a little easier to see you right off the bat. D'you think the spell is finally weakening?" America wondered.

The whole reason Canada was invisible and forgotten by the rest of the world stemmed down to the fact England fucked up with the spell he had been trying to cast. It was meant to be a concealment spell, activated by Canada's own will when he was frightened, when he was just a colony and to be used to escape danger if any of Britain's enemies came looking. However, the Nation did something wrong and botched the spell. As a result, Canada was pretty much invisible to the whole world, and with that invisibility, a sort of out-of-sight, out-of-mind forget charm was there too. Only the ones closest to Canada could see him the easiest, and sometimes even then, it was difficult. Which is also why it made it easy for the world to mistake him for America when they _were_ able to see him.

England had felt guilty, whenever he could recall Canada and remember what happened and had offered, when he did, to remove the spell. But Canada was so used to being invisible and his subsequent shyness anyway, that he feared if he were suddenly to become visible to the whole world, he would have a large anxiety induced panic attack and thus declined.

"I don't know, maybe," Canada answered after a moment. "That would be nice, though... Having it gradually wear off would be better than having it just instantly go away."

"Yeah, it'd ease you into the fact you're becoming visible." America answered with a nod of his head.

A new song came on the radio and they lapsed into quiet from the tune.

They were silent for another hour after that, stopping in a random town to gas up and use the restroom.

"Matt?" America finally broke the silence again once they'd gotten back in the car and America had re-tied his blindfold (It had taken every inch of his self-restraint not to look around the gas station's souvenirs for a hint at their location.) and they'd been driving for thirty minutes.

"Mm?"

"...Are we there yet?"

Canada chuckled to himself. His brother's patience was giving out.

"Soon, Al. Can you hold out for about another hour?"

America made a slight whine-like noise, sighing and shifting restlessly in his seat. "I don't have much of a choice," He replied wryly, grinning faintly.

"Nope," Canada agreed, "But it'll go by faster if you're not thinking about it so turn the radio to a different station, find us some good upbeat music."

America did just that.

And thankfully, time did seem to go by faster as a result.

Alfred practically jumped for joy when Matt stopped the car and announced they were 'here'. Wherever 'here' was. But America wasn't worried, he trusted Canada, and his brother said it was somewhere he'd love so he wasn't worried at all, he was excited.

He bolted from the car and stretched his body with a long, loud exhale before closing the door to the SUV and leaned against it as he waited and listened to his brother getting out and making to grab their suitcases and other stuff from the back.

A quiet, 'wait here a few', was mumbled from Canada before America heard his brother hauling their stuff away, listening to how his footsteps seemed to melt into nothingness after only a few steps.

It felt like forever, even though he knew it wasn't really, as he leaned against the car waiting, taking in the air and listening to the sound of the wind, of the sounds around him. It felt good, in a strange way.

Being so busy normally, he forgot to commune with the actual earth and nature around him. To remember his proverbial and actual roots, the land that he is. It feels refreshing in a way only Nations can comprehend when they're allowed the time to simply center themselves amidst their natural land.

Canada returns and gently leads him away from the SUV. He won't let him take off the blindfold yet.

"Maaaatt," He complains with a whine.

"Soon, Al. I'd ruin the surprise if I let you take it off now." Canada replies.

It's with a pout and a sigh that he lets his brother lead him into a house and the aroma of the air as they step inside is absolutely _divine_. The smell of incense fills him and he feels his body immediately going lax and heavy before Canada leads them farther in and gently nudges him down onto a comfortable over-sized recliner. Canada lets go, and says he'll be right back and promises that America can take the blindfold off in a moment.

He relaxes deeply into the recliner, taking in the musky scent from the incense, lulled into the deep relaxation. There's a familiarity to it, although his mind can't quite put his finger on what it is. It reminds him of something...

The next thing he is aware of, is a gentle presence in front him, accompanied by soft, near featherless weight of hands placing themselves in his. Hands that were definitely not Canada's, and brings his surprise forward.

He opens his mouth to question, but the quiet rush of air whispered out in a gentle hush silences him. The weight of this new person's hands is suddenly familiar, and the presence, too, and as he let the thumb of his right hand brush gently over the knuckles of the others left hand... A smile came to his face.

He's aware of Canada's return a moment later as he feels his brother's fingers untie the blindfold.

He closes his eyes when its slipped off so the light won't hurt them, and slowly blinks them open before his eyes adjust and take in the sight before him.

Japan is standing in front of him, bent slightly, still grasping his hands, with a soft glaze of adoration alight in his eyes.

"Surprise," Both Canada and Japan murmur and America feels like he's about to burst from happiness.

The familiarity of his surroundings also comes into focus, of it being one of his and Canada's border-homes.

"You were right, Matt," America says quietly, voice a bit shaky from the sheer force of emotion that's going through him as he smiles broadly, "I do love it."

He pulls his brother down into the over-sized chair beside him over the arm with one hand, and pulls Japan down to practically be on both of their laps.

The squeak Japan makes has both Canada and America laughing, but America just hugs them both a moment later.

"How long are you staying?" America asks Japan.

"Three days, it's all I could manage." Japan replies softly.

"More than enough," America assures, "I'm just really happy you're here, too, Kiku."

"I wouldn't pass up any chance to come see either of you, you know that." Japan replied.

Canada hummed in agreement.

America brought Japan and Canada's hands together and covered them with his, beaming for all he's worth. "Really, this means everything to me. I know it's been difficult lately, with little time to see one another, but just being with you two here, right now... I'm so lucky and blessed to have you both. I love you both, and I always will."

Japan's face colours slightly, his gaze shying off to the side a little, but his mouth curls into a smile as he voices a quiet 'Koishiteru' in response.

Canada just smiles, and replies an 'I love you, too,' back in both English and French.

America feels nothing could be any more perfect right now, being with the two people he loves the most.

The feel of their rings and the symbolism from it just made it that much more amazing.

Because if America was the proverbial Power, then it was definitely Canada that was Wisdom and Japan as Courage that kept him sane and balanced.

He wouldn't trade this for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you unaware, there is three ways to say 'I love you' in japanese. 'Suki', for a platonic/friendly/not-so-serious/commited way. 'Aishiteru' is the common phrase, as a seriousness and for couples, ect. 'Koishiteru', however, is like the highest honorific way of saying it, generally from older married couples or ones that feel they're truly soul-mates, ect. It's a declaration of total devotion and love with everything one has to the other, more or less. And also hooray for the nerdy LoZ-symbolism they have going with their wedding rings and how America sees them all in the dynamic of it.


	9. Macau x Hong Kong - "Bet on love and I'll bet you lose."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Uh, fluff, not-love, symbiotic unity, lots of gambling references.
> 
> I loved writing this one so much, omg. These two have become my OTP. Ahhh. Help. -flail- Also, I was hella inspired by The Ready Set's "Killer" song. Namely, the line "Bet on love and I'll bet you lose." Anyway, hope you all enjoy this one. -hearts-

Ask Hong Kong if he's in love with Macau, he will steadfastly deny it.

He will tell you with a laconic expression and flat voice that he isn't in love with Macau because he's never been in love with anyone and wasn't there supposed to be something exciting and special about love when you feel it?

If you ask him what he feels about Macau, he will shrug carelessly and answer, "I feel myself with him."

If you ask Macau if he's in love with Hong Kong, he'll smile amusedly and answer you politely, "Ah, I wouldn't label what I feel for Hong Kong something so _pedestrian_ as love."

If you ask him what he feels for Hong Kong, he will chuckle as he pushes up his glasses to answer, "I feel something beyond comprehensible unity with him."

If you watch Hong Kong, it isn't what he says that gives what he feels away.

It's in the way he reacts and his subtle-and sometimes outright-facial responses to the things Macau says and does.

He gives Macau his undivided attention when he speaks, eyes alight with attentiveness and focus, something he hardly gives anyone else.

His mouth will break it's neutral expression and curve upwards into a small, gentle smile filled with adoration when Macau showers him with praise or affection.

His eyes will glimmer and shine with excitement and life when the two of them are together, discussing new venues and growth potential.

His shoulders will tremble and shake with contained laughter when Macau slips a verbal pun or double entendre into their conversation.

His expression melts into one of complete bliss and comfort when Macau draws him into an embrace and he returns it whole heartedly.

If you insist to him he's in love with Macau based off of this, he will snort and respond, "Don't bet on it."

If you watch Macau, it's both what he says and does that gives his feelings away.

His business demeanor drops into something relaxed and comfortable when the two are together and he will in turn, give Hong Kong his own devoted attention when the younger is speaking.

His easy-going smile will morph into something far more fond and affectionate when Hong Kong voices his continuous admiration and seeks his advice and opinion before any one else.

His voice turns animated and lively when they discuss business and plans for growth and development, and his eyes reflect the livelihood the most with the way they shine beyond the lenses of his glasses.

His whole body will quake and shiver as he laughs when Hong Kong responds to his pun or joke with a sassy response of his own, before his voice becomes breathless as he praises the other's witty comeback.

His expression morphs from mere affection into something far deeper, eyes closing, smile widening and at the same time, softening as he draws Hong Kong into an embrace and feels the other return it.

If you insist to him that he's in love with Hong Kong based off of this, he will chuckle amusedly and shrug, responding, "I wouldn't double down on that call."

Hong Kong is not in love with Macau, because what he feels is both platonic and yet, so much more. He will not claim it is love because he fears there is no true term to call it, and what they have, is special and there's no need for a term. It's simply an innate, understood feeling they both have.

He will not call it love, because love is both demanding and selfish, as well as selfless and giving. What they have is neither, it is symbiotic.

Macau is beyond love in how he feels for Hong Kong. What he feels is complete devotion and loyalty, affection immeasurable and whole acceptance. He will not claim it is love because that term is too weak, it does not fit and what they are, is beyond mere love. It's ingrained and near instinctual in him, right down to his very core that resounds in pure synchronization with Hong Kong.

He will never call it love, because love is too fragile of a thing. It breaks and stutters and repeats like a skipping track. What they have is neither, it is completely whole and harmonious.

Even when they exchange small gestures to one another, Hong Kong tossing a clear crystal die with custom engravings at Macau while Macau flicks a custom-embossed and emblemed playing card at him, they will never call their feelings love.

_A face up Spade in place of a number._

_The Queen of Diamonds._

Their subtle expressions of amusement reflected in their smirks are identical.

"Bet on love? We'll bet you lose."

_**-End-** _


	10. Greece x South Italy - Reincarnation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing(s): Greece x Rome [The City, not Ancient Rome], Greece x South Italy.
> 
> Warnings: Uh, sorta-angst? Feelsy. Fluff. Reincarnation/Rebirth of sorts, also running with a headcanon of mine that Romano/Lovino/South Italy was once originally Rome the City and was reborn as Italy (and subsequently became South Italy when Feliciano/Veneziano/Italy came along.) That's about it. Enjoy.
> 
> I had half of this done for a long while and then depression hit and life waylaid me and ughh. I finally kicked my butt into finishing it. Now, if I can drum up enough will to work on Turn of the Cards and my other projects, we'll be back in business. xDD Anyway, read on people. -hearts-

 

Greece slept.

 

It was as chronic for him to be asleep as it was chronic for America to be eating burgers.

 

Both because of his economic instability and simply because he enjoyed sleep.

 

Sleep gave him reprieve. Sleep let him dream.

 

Dreams carried him through.

 

Because being awake in reality only brought grief and longing.

 

He slept to dream, and dream he did.

 

He dreamed of the past, and of things lost by the filter of time.

 

Sometimes, he could almost swear the dreams of his memories were as vivid as they had been when they had actually happened.

 

Sometimes, he could still hear that unforgettable voice...

 

_"Heracles,"_

That voice that was filled with so much warmth and love, that always spoke to him in only Old Latin and early Greek.

 

The voice that belonged to the one he loved so dearly.

 

The voice of someone long gone.

 

He could still see them so vividly in his dreams, their dark, sun-kissed skin that made the white of their toga stand out even more, and the smile they let come to their face whenever they were together.

 

Awakening to reality was something Greece hated, because the ache in his heart always came back.

 

Though, sometimes, he awoke and the feeling was not there, and the dreams the night before had felt so real.

 

Sometimes, he felt as if someone had actually been there with him, and that voice... As if it were speaking right in his ear.

 

But that was impossible...

 

Rome was long gone.

 

Not Ancient Rome, not Romulus, though he adored that man greatly, it was not he whom he had fallen in love with.

 

Ancient Rome was but the name of the whole province, but Rome the City... That was someone entirely different from Romulus.

 

And that was the one whom Greece loved.

 

Rome the City had fallen and been reborn time and time again, as long as Greece could remember, and with each rebirth, that being only seemed to get more and more beautiful.

 

And there had been a time he got to call Rome his own.

 

And Rome always looked at him with such devotion; their expression honest and open, hiding nothing.

 

They showered him with affection, with warm smiles, kisses, and gifts, speaking naught but words of sweet, honest love.

 

But one day Rome disappeared.

 

Rome disappeared, and with them, took Greece's heart.

 

Try as he might, and as far as he searched, he could never find any trace of Rome, as if they ceased to exist.

 

He didn't dare ask Ancient Rome, out of fear of blame being placed on him, for he knew how much Romulus loved Rome, too.

 

After all, he would not fight so hard to return to Rome's side and bring them a rebirth whenever they fell or were conquered.

 

So he left it at that, a hole in his heart where Rome once was, and the years moved on, blurring and mixing as time continued to shift forward.

 

He slept to dream.

 

To dream of his beloved Rome.

 

One night, however, things changed.

 

  
_"Heracles,"_ The sound of Rome's voice resounded around and through him.

 

But even as it did, the image before him fizzled, blurred lines beginning to edge across the scenery.

 

Reality encroaching upon him once again.

 

He fought against it, he wanted to stay asleep... To stay. Stay with Rome.

 

_"Heracles, open your eyes... Please..."_

That voice... No longer did it sound the way it did when he dreamed. No, this voice... Too real, too loud to be a dream...

 

Reluctantly, he let go of the dream, let the images fade back into the recesses of his consciousness as he slowly cracked his eyes open.

 

Night still embraced his part of the world and his vision was greeted by the view of his own room.

 

And that brought an ache to his heart again.

 

However his mind began to surface to reality some more and he became aware of the presence behind him.

 

A hand settled itself over his, a weight shifted, and Greece didn't dare move or make a sound.

 

  
_"Heracles,"_  Their voice whispered into his ear, and his body shivered, eyes slipping closed as he took in the sound. It was slightly different, the tone a little deeper, but unmistakable.

 

When he breathed in, he could smell the scent of the earth, as well as the faintest traces of almonds and water lily. He was aware of his increasing heart rate, the way it began to pound.

 

His ache had become three times stronger, but he was still clutched with fear. Fear that he'd finally lost himself to madness and was merely imagining it all.

 

  
_"Have I finally lost my mind? Or are you real?"_  He dared to ask, breaking the silence that had settled.

 

The warmth that was resting atop his hand from the others moved slightly, just enough until that hand slipped into his own, and he felt the dizzying, but gentle warmth as those fingers threaded between his.

 

That same voice answered, _"What do you think?"_

What did he think... He wanted so badly to believe. He wanted to turn, to see his beloved Rome's face again.

 

  
_"I want, with every part of my being to believe it's you... But after so long, how can I ever truly know?"_  He answered.

 

To that, there was a soft noise, similar to a sigh, but with a gentle lilt, like a quiet laugh.

 

  
_"Let me tell you a story, and you may choose from there whether to believe."_  The voice replied quietly.

 

He gave a wordless nod and felt the shift behind him, and took in the feel of the warmth radiating from the body behind him. The hand in his never left.

 

  
_"Once,"_ The voice began, _"I was the City of Rome. My name, Amarus. I was Grandfather Rome's favorite. No matter how many other young nations or other cities he raised, he always came back to me. We rose, we fought, I saw glory, and I saw destruction. I would fall as many times as I was rebuilt. I was quite naive back then, I believed I could have whatever and whoever I wanted, when I wanted. Most of the wars fought were arguably my fault because of my ways, and I would fall in that selfish desire of mine for love. Time and again, rebirth after rebirth, Grandfather would bring me back. And for a while, I did have love. And I was happy; I had the most devoted, kind lover one could ever ask for. One who spoiled me, treated me as if I were one of the Gods, would have brought down the world should I but ask for it."_

Greece felt his heart beating hard again, eyes falling closed as he listened to the words, he could recall all of this story avidly in his head.

 

  
_"But nothing ever stays the same or lasts, not even for ones like us. Change was coming, it was something my Grandfather felt in his soul. I loved, but my love and loyalty for my Grandfather was stronger than my devotion to even Greece. Grandfather told me he could feel the change, and that he would soon have to leave. I did not understand, but I knew I would do whatever I must to help. When I asked, he gave a grave smile, warned me of the pain and the subsequent potential consequences of my choice and asked me once more if I were ready. I stayed far longer at Grandfather's side as it was, all of the others had either left and become their own Nations or had eventually settled or become parts of another Nation. I was Rome. I was strong. I knew, whatever pain, I could handle. I said yes. What I agreed to... What I did... Very few beings ever go through. I went through a willing Rebirth. I allowed my Grandfather to basically kill me in order to reform me into something new, something different. I let him remake me anew into what it was he needed me to be."_  The voice continued, telling their story in a worn, tired tone.

 

Greece's eyes had opened and widened as he continued to listen, taking in the words the other said.

 

_"I can remember the pain from being reborn, remade. When I awoke, it was with barely any memories, and I was a child once more. But it was different. I was different. I felt...stronger. Stronger than I ever had been as a City itself. I was suddenly aware of more people. These people... They were mine.  I had been reborn as a potential Nation. Grandfather told me I would need to grow again, to experience and learn. He gave me a new name, and he said I would slowly remember everything from my former life, but he needed me like this because there was a new soul that was forming, one that needed to be protected at all costs. This soul...was fragile, gentle. I remember it connecting to me like nothing else ever had. It became part of me, and I allowed it to. It grew, and so did I. This bond is near codependent, that soul... If this link were ever to be severed, they would most likely die, even now. I wouldn't die, not as a Nation. My body would continue on, but me, this mind and human body, this soul I have would die._

_"And so I have grown, gone through wars, been through hell and back, rising from a small colony to a fully strong, independent Nation with my brother at my side. All while slowly regaining the pieces of my memories of my time as Rome. I'm here, both because you should know the truth, and if you're willing to accept me as I am now... I want to stay at your side again. I searched for so long, for a piece that was missing inside of me, insatiably craving warmth and affection and never finding what I wanted with others. I finally remembered just what that piece was. It was you, Heracles. So... If you can believe my words, and accept me as I am, I'll stay. And if you don't, I will let go, and I won't bring it up again."_

Greece was quiet, trying to take in and absorb the words and information and process it all. His mind was already beginning to draw conclusions and parallels, the pieces falling into the blanks and filling it. Things began to make sense.

 

However, some part of him still hesitated. If all of this was true, then... It ultimately meant...

 

_"You were reborn as Italy...?"_

_"Yes... I allowed Grandfather to reshape me into the being that has become Italy. Or, South Italy, since I relinquished the title of Italy to my brother, as I said, so he wouldn't die. He was very fragile since he was a new soul, everything that he learned and is, he drew from me through our bond. He had to learn things at twice the speed as I did to survive. I went through my own personal hell growing up again, but here I am. I'm a lot more jaded, pessimistic and cynical, I have a lot more issues, and potentially I'm the biggest problematic loser, but remembering fully who I was has somewhat helped and allowed me to overcome some of the issues I've had in this lifetime. I can't change who I am now, and part of me doesn't want to go back to being the way I was, either. The best I can do is try to blend the best parts of myself from both worlds as it were. I'm not Amarus anymore, not fully. Perhaps at my core, since my heart and soul is still that of Rome, but I am more than that now, and I prefer the name I have now."_

Greece's brows furrowed for a long time, and he felt his tiredness seep back into his body, but he fought it off. Now was not the time for sleep, no matter how apathetic he normally was. He'd spent so long wishing for Rome to return to him, now that this moment was here, even if it was not the way he particularly imagined or expected, he had to give an answer.

 

He willed for his body to move, and with some effort, sat up, letting his hand momentarily slip from the others, before slowly turning and letting his gaze settle upon the Nation beside him. Even with the room dark, due to his eyes still being adjusted, he could see their features clearly.

 

South Italy sat beside him, his eyes practically glowing in the dark from the shade of hazel-green they were. He could remember Rome's eyes--they were not that colour, they were more honey-brown, their luminous gold-tones shimmering. His skin was tan, but Rome's had been even darker. His hair had been longer, wavier, similar more to his, and the shade of brown more like the earth's rather than sienna. Rome had also been a little taller, and had a slightly different physique shape. Despite the differences and contrast, Greece could immediately see the connections and parallels and the reasons why Romulus remade him the way he did.

 

The other was silent and still, but Greece could see the tenseness to their form and the anxiety and fear that swam in depths of their eyes. That was one thing that he'd always noticed, and now made sense--he'd always realized South Italy's eyes reflected the things he felt, even if his facial expression did not. Rome's eyes always reflected similarly, along with his expression.

 

It was different, they were different. The other said so themselves, and he realized this. Even so, he still found that he wasn't that surprised with this revelation, and some part of him felt more than happy to know, at the least, that Rome really hadn't disappeared.

 

He reached out with his hand and placed it on the other Nation's, grasping it before pulling the other near, enough so that he could see the other's face up close. It had taken on a soft, rosy hue that he could see even in the dark, and the others eyes seemed surprised, the fear still there, but small hope was flickering through, but looked as if the other was fighting to keep that part blocked away. It hurt him to see that, because what he did know of South Italy's life, it wasn't easy and he'd come to expect rejection and to be pushed away by others.

 

He reached out with his other hand and placed it on their cheek, brows furrowing for a moment as he fought off another wave of lethargy and to form a coherent sentence.

 

  
_"It might be different now, but that's... That's alright. Just knowing that Rome didn't disappear like I feared, that brings me so much joy; and knowing instead they chose to selflessly go through what they did? I think I could fall back in love with that fact alone. You may have changed, you may no longer be Amarus, but that depth of love and care you hold hasn't changed at all, it's still there in the depths of your eyes."_ Greece murmured, giving the other a faint smile.

 

He pulled the other Nation close, slipping their arms around them, and he felt the other's body tremble, before he felt their face bury into the crook of his neck and arms wind tightly around him in return. They were speaking, but it was a garble of words, in different languages. English, Italian, Greek, Latin. Just words attempting to express the relief and happiness the other felt.

 

He could feel his own heart racing, aching but in a different way now. Where it had felt heavy and ached with pain, it now felt lighter than air and ached with joy. He could feel his body going lax again so he pulled the other further onto the bed beside him and pulls them down and into his arms, the other not complaining and followed wordlessly.

 

  
_"It's enough... This is enough. It's different, but it's okay. We can figure things out more...later... Just stay here with me."_  Greece mumbled out, and he felt how the other shifted marginally, just enough to become comfortable with the embrace before their head found its place in his neck and under his chin again, letting out that sound again--that sound similar to a sigh and a laugh rolled into one, accompanied by a quiet hum.

 

  
_"Not going anywhere... I'll stay until you tell me to go."_  The other assured.

 

He could feel himself growing tired, but for once, Greece didn't want to sleep.

 

For the first time in so long, he wanted to will his eyes to remain open, to simply stay suspended in this moment, be allowed all the time he wanted to take it in and process. He wanted to stay awake just to make sure the other wasn't going to just disappear, like he feared.

 

But he could feel his eyes slipping closed as his body became heavy, and with that, could feel his mind slowly numbing down and the conscious fears and worries were going along with it, and a small part of his mind reassuring him he wasn't going to lose the other.

 

This was South Italy, after all. As fickle and complicated they could be, they were extremely loyal to those that held their care.

 

Letting himself nuzzle into the locks of hair, he let himself speak words he had not in centuries.

 

_"Lovino... Iliachtída mou."_

Barely holding onto his threads of consciousness, and just before he completely slipped away into slumber, he heard an answer.

 

_"Heracles, agápi mou..."_

He slipped completely into sleep, at peace and happy.

 

Greece slept.

 

And for once, he did not dream.

 

He had no need to dream of the past.

 

Not when he had a future to wake up to.

 

- ** _End_** -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short translations:
> 
> "Iliachtída mou." = My sunshine.
> 
> "agápi mou..." = my love...
> 
> In Greek.
> 
> Basically Greece used to call Rome his sunshine/light and Rome always responded with just calling him his heart or love.
> 
> Also, about the name Amarus that I chose for Rome:
> 
> Long story short, it means 'unfading love', and basically references to the fact Rome/South Italy both seem to love very deeply and, as he mentioned, back when he was Rome, his affections and selfishness in his love/care/want/desire brought about most of the wars over control of his City. (Seriously, historically Rome was one of the most fought over places on earth both for its seat of power and its beauty. You can't tell me half of it wasn't instigated because of Amarus. if Ancient Rome is a gigantic flirt and all, i'm pretty sure so was Rome the City.)
> 
> So there's that. Anyway, that is all. Hope you enjoyed it. =D


	11. PruIta - Unrequited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Angst. Angst. Angst. Unrequited feelings, somewhat religious crud, and running along with the belief that Germany potentially is, but isn't quite HRE. (Rather, it's his body, but not his soul.)
> 
> Pairings: Onesided Prussia/Veneziano, Onesided Germany/Veneziano, implied HRE/Veneziano.
> 
> Notes: ...I'm practically bawling my eyes out after writing this. My Prussia muse wouldn't shut up and leave me in peace, the words kept coming and pushing stronger at me til I finally caved and wrote them. Wahhh. I ship PruIta so hard and it's not perfect, but I love it so much. But I am aware there is an angsty, less-fluffy-happy side to it. And this is it. T_T Prussia's PoV. That is all.

Unrequited love is probably the most unawesome thing ever.

Because the kind of pain it inflicts is far stronger and long-lasting than any physical blow or wound you can inflict.

Even under torture, you become numb and immune to the sensation and pain.

But pain inflicted from the heart? From unrestrained emotion?

That is a kind of pain that could kill, given enough time.

And yet...

I have loved you for so long, I doubt I could ever stop even if I wanted to.

No, I don't want to. I can't. I think I'd probably fade away and actually die if I did stop trying to love you.

I fell in love with you the moment we first met.

You were small, just a child. Fragile and vulnerable.

I did not love you like I love you now, but the moment I peered down into your large, wide eyes...

I swear I glimpsed a bit of Heaven.

You were pure and untainted, a gift from God if there ever was one.

I would have fallen to my knees and pledged my eternal devotion and loyalty to you then and there if I could have.

Perhaps if I had, maybe things would have gone much differently.

But as it is, I know why.

Why you keep your heart from me, why you shield yourself and shy away from any romantic affection offered to you.

And I tried--I really tried--to keep you from being hurt.

...My efforts were not enough.

In the end, I think all my attempts made it worse.

I could not have saved Him without giving away a piece of myself to do so.

It was foolish, and maybe childish of me in thinking I could play God...

...But the thought that perhaps you'd find your real smile again was enough to drive me to do it.

But my efforts and attempts did not come out the way I expected or intended.

My little bruder...

That precious being that arose from the fragment of myself...

I should have known it wouldn't be the same.

I still see the pain in your eyes when you gaze at Him, I didn't have to tell you for you to know.

I wonder... Do you hate me for what I've done?

Are you appalled and disgusted with the way I tried to twist the very fabric of nature, the law and order of God?

Or even... Do you feel guilty that I did it all for you?

Don't. Please, please don't. Don't ever blame yourself for the Sin I caused, and if you hate me for my foolish ways, then I will accept it.

But he loves you; loves you with nearly the same intensity as I do.

If nothing else, I would implore you to love him, rather than me.

As selfish as I am, I am more than aware of the failures and things I overlooked in His upbringing.

You saw just how much of a terror he could be, how twisted he could become under the cloak of Perfection.

It was my fault. I know it.

But you... You've been the one that's saved him, really.

I don't deserve your love, and maybe he doesn't really, either...

But he needs you, probably more than he needs me, and more than I possibly even need you.

He's not the same, I know, and I think we both wish at times he was, but...

Well. As they say, live and learn.

I have lived, and I have learned. I learned the consequences of playing God, I learned the depths of insanity and madness one experiences while in love. I learned the limits of my being.

...Part of me doesn't regret my choice at all.

I honestly don't think I'd know what to do with myself if one day, you decided to return my feelings...

As strange as it is, I've drawn a form of strength from the pain I feel from this longing.

I have watched over you as best as I could, alongside my bruder.

I watched you grow into the Nation you are now, and I only fell more and more in love with you.

If someone were able to take me apart, physically and metaphysically, and expose my very soul, I'm sure they'd find a mark there with your shape and name.

You branded me without even trying, and I am bound in flesh and spirit to you.

I want to see your smiles, feel the warmth of your embraces.

I love your land, your people, just as much as I love the things that make up the human part of you.

I have loved you for so long, Veneziano...

I'm afraid I'll disappear completely if I voiced it and you outright rejected me.

That's all it would take, simply two words from you, and I would shatter.

There's an ache from knowing you probably never will return my feelings...

But there's also that shred of hope that maybe, someday, you will.

I'm probably a coward for it. 

But I guess...even me, as 'awesome' as I am, is scared to die.

All I had ever wanted, and hoped to do, was keep that radiant smile on your face.

... ... ... 

But...

If death is the price for the Sins I committed...

Then maybe...

 

... ... ...

 

 

_"Veneziano, I love you."_

 

- _ **End**_ -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I left the ending ambiguous for reasons. I am not sorry, please don't kill me. -sobs in a corner- My ship is already doing that for you.


End file.
